<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>'awal (first) by dr_libra_phd</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29660160">'awal (first)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_libra_phd/pseuds/dr_libra_phd'>dr_libra_phd</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>You and I [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, First Meetings, Insecurity, M/M, Misunderstandings, Past Sexual Abuse, Protective Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:34:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,432</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29660160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_libra_phd/pseuds/dr_libra_phd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They knew they would meet each other one day outside of their dreams. But Nicolo still feared. And he still worried.</p><p>Epilogue to "Needs of the Other"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andy | Andromache of Scythia &amp; Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>You and I [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179578</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. (Nicolo) - Outside of Morocco, 13th Century</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808345">Needs of the Other</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_libra_phd/pseuds/dr_libra_phd">dr_libra_phd</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>You didn't think I would leave you guys hanging, huh? :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was like a dream. </p><p>Only Nicolo was awake. He was aware. Yusuf's shoulder was close to his, his heat a solid comfort by Nicolo's side. No. This was not a dream. This was happening. At last.</p><p>Yusuf's fingertips tapped inside the loose curl of Nicolo's hand. It was the tapping that made Nicolo realize he was tensing up as the women approached. </p><p>Yet Nicolo felt outside of himself, a feeling he had not felt for a very long time and in a situation far less pleasant. But it was a feeling he knew. It was familiar. It was unsettling.</p><p>"I thought they would be taller," Yusuf murmured out of the corner of his mouth. Yusuf kept his eyes forward. </p><p>"They seem like giants even from afar," Nicolo mumbled as he stared into the distance. The taller of the two could meet his eyes without strain. She wore her dark brown hair in a thick braid, tossed over a shoulder like it was an afterthought.</p><p>"Only because you are short," Yusuf replied breezily. "All appear to stand high next to you." He lightly scratched out the symbol for the sun into Nicolo's palm.</p><p>"Short," Nicolo scoffed under his breath, half-heartedly returning barbs. He knew Yusuf was trying his best to distract him. </p><p>"You stand at the same height. Does that not make you short as well?"</p><p>"Lies. Falsehoods," Yusuf shot back cheerfully. "We are only the same height if you stood on my boot." He yelped when Nicolo did just that.</p><p>"Very well," Yusuf sighed, too loudly to be sincere. "Spare my poor feet. I will concur we are of the same height." He paused before adding, "if I was seated."</p><p>Nicolo grunted, but he could not compose a clever response. The words dried up in his mouth as his eyes drifted back to the women. They were on the path. They would be here soon. Very soon. </p><p>The one he and Yusuf thought was the leader walked with her shoulders and back straight despite the large ax strapped behind her. It was similar to the way Yusuf carried his scimitar. She descended the slope in an easy stride, stepping over the dip in the ground Nicolo himself avoided. And her eyes were on him and Yusuf, fixed upon them and not on the unknown terrain. </p><p>This was a warrior who crossed many lands—rock or grass or sand—and has for many years. </p><p>A chill twisted in Nicolo's belly. How many years, he wondered. How much has she seen? How long has she roamed? </p><p>His gaze now drifted to her companion. She was the archer in his and Yusuf's dreams. She has darker hair that reminded him of a starless night, kept loose under her head wrap. She wore the red robes as they have seen in the dreams, her bow and quivers slung over her shoulder. She has the features of a person from the Far East, a face of delicate brushstrokes. Nicolo knew it did not truly reflect the iron core he and Yusuf have witnessed many times. </p><p>Nicolo has only met one like her once on a coastal village during their first year traveling together. He had stared—the man was unlike anyone he met before—until Yusuf jerked him into an empty alley and hissed he was rude. Yusuf had calmed when a flustered Nicolo stammered—his Arabic still poor then—that he did not mean to be. </p><p>As the women reached the path where he and Yusuf waited at the end, Nicolo's heart pounded harder. It felt like he was running, yet his feet were firmly rooted to the earth </p><p>"You and I," Yusuf murmured suddenly. His warm fingers wove through Nicolo's stiff ones. Yusuf squeezed Nicolo's hand, again and again, until Nicolo gripped back. </p><p>"The same," Nicolo offered in a lightness he wished he felt. </p><p>Yusuf huffed out a quiet chuckle. Yusuf did not let go of his hand. He tightened his grasp as the women stopped an arm's length away. </p><p>They considered each other with no expression. </p><p>Then, the woman with the ax sniffed. She nodded to her companion. "Quynh," she offered in a voice that reminds Nicolo of faraway thunder. </p><p>Quynh gestured back to the other woman. "Andromache." </p><p>There was a light accent Nicolo could not place. She sounded like chimes Yusuf once hung in a hut they stayed by the sea. </p><p>The silence stretched as they stared at each other once again. </p><p>Nicolo suddenly remembered they never discussed what language the women might speak. </p><p>Yusuf cleared his throat. He glanced wild-eyed over to Nicolo. Yusuf came to the same realization. </p><p>Andromache canted her head, studying him and Yusuf. She looked at them with a warrior's eye, weighing her adversary. </p><p>Then, she bloomed into a smile, a hint of teeth and bright eyes the color of faraway horizons and fields. </p><p>"I thought you two would be taller," Andromache said in perfect Arabic. </p><p>Yusuf burst into a relieved laugh. "We have thought the same of you!" </p><p>"This is Yusuf," Nicolo offered. He pulled his hand out of Yusuf's grip with reluctance. He gestured to Yusuf, who bowed to the women's amusement. </p><p>"And the one with the atrocious accent—" Yusuf winked at Nicolo, hopping sideways to avoid an elbow, "Is Nicolo di Genova." </p><p>Yusuf said his name grandly. If Nicolo bore a longer name attached with titles, Nicolo was certain Yusuf would gladly say the entire thing. His ears flushed. </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Nicolo caught Quynh silently repeating his name. Her unblinking obsidian eyes were on him while Yusuf made introductions. But her eyes slid away immediately; he would have not seen it had he not been looking. </p><p>Quynh held up an arrow. Two hares hung skewered through the shaft. </p><p>Andromache's eyes held a gleam of pride as she gestured towards the arrow. </p><p>"Quynh thought we should contribute meat should you be in want." Andromache looked towards Nicolo. But she did not comment. Just as well, Yusuf still lamented he could count Nicolo's ribs. </p><p>"You are skilled with a bow," Yusuf remarked. "Nicolo—" </p><p>"Would like to offer you tea as Yusuf prepares the meat," Nicolo interrupted before Yusuf starts to sing his undeserving praises. Nicolo suspected Quynh has centuries more experience with the bow than he. </p><p>Yusuf glanced to Nicolo, his eyes flicking over Nicolo's expression. He quickly turned his attention back to the hares. </p><p>"We will talk after a good meal, yea?" </p><p>Andromache shrugged a shoulder. Nicolo could not help but notice her ax lifting on her back. He glanced down at her hands. Her wrists were wrapped with leather gauntlets that were worn and scarred. They have seen battles. Far more than what he and Yusuf had seen in their dreams. </p><p>"Eating is good," Andromache said. That bright smile faded to something cryptic yet also knowing. Her eyes lingered on Nicolo before she and Quynh turned as one towards the table. </p><p>Nicolo scrubbed his palms down his trousers. The weight of the women's gazes made his skin itch. He was startled to discover his hands were sticky with sweat. Yusuf did not complain before. </p><p>Yusuf stayed, hesitant, one hand gripping the laden arrow. His other hand edged closer towards one of Nicolo's again. </p><p>"Go," Nicolo murmured. He smiled faintly at the question in Yusuf's eyes and the hesitation in the half-step towards the house. "It is fine." </p><p>Yusuf stroked the back of Nicolo's hand. He turned away to fetch his knives to make halal. </p><p>Nicolo's smile faded.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. (Nicolo) - Outside of Morocco, 13th century</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yusuf's honeyed figs became a contribution to the table instead. Andromache offered large shelled almonds from a coarse gray sack tied to her belt. </p>
<p>With a flick of a tiny blade that Andromache slipped out of her left gauntlet, the sand-colored shells easily split. Plump white nuts sprinkled the table under her deft fingers, but no one picked out the meaty bits to eat.</p>
<p>"He has great skill," Quynh remarked as Nicolo gathered Yusuf's drawings to make room. She pushed pale teardrop-shaped nuts and shell halves with a finger. </p>
<p>Nicolo tensed—he could not help it—when Andromache paused and considered the sheaves in Nicolo's hands. A look crossed her face, a flinch, a look of recognition as her narrowing eyes landed on the falcon scroll. Then her attention moved to Nicolo. </p>
<p>Another almond shell split and dropped onto the table like a fallen soldier. Then another. Andromache did not look at her hands. She looked at Nicolo.</p>
<p>"He is indeed skilled," Andromache said finally. </p>
<p>"Yes," Nicolo simply said as he set the scrolls aside. He felt the urge to shelter Yusuf's beautiful art. He did not offer them a look. The women did not ask. </p>
<p>Behind Nicolo, Yusuf skinned the hares by the side of the house, away from their own meats drying in the sun. He stayed close by the group. Occasionally, Yusuf chided Hamdi when the horse ventured closer, curious about the newcomers. The hen clucked quietly under the table. Quynh smiled at the bird pecking on the toe of her boot. Andromache shook her head when Yusuf yelped after Hamdi nipped the back of his head. </p>
<p>Yusuf's gaze was on Nicolo's shoulders every so often. And Yusuf was unusually noisy as he prepared the animals, his knife scraping loudly against the skin, metal rattling as blades dropped again and again. </p>
<p>Nicolo wanted to turn around. He wanted to sidle up to Yusuf, press his nose into the crook of Yusuf's shoulder, breathe in his scent, and wait for peace to return in his heart. He wanted to slip his arms around Yusuf's middle. He wanted to feel Yusuf's life thumping under his ear. </p>
<p>Instead, Nicolo focused on pouring amber tea into the four chipped cups he had set down without thinking. The two women watched him, and he was grateful his hands were steady as he poured the tea. He wished he thought to bring out the bit of hard cheese they have in the house. Will the hares and stew be enough for the four of them? They must have traveled far. He should have bought bread in the village before returning. Should he have bought wine from the village as well? </p>
<p>Abruptly, Yusuf exclaimed as he held up one skinned creature. He declared it was the animal that pounced on him the week before. Nicolo was sure it was not, but he did not refute Yusuf's tale even though he was certain it also did not involve Hamdi, a fish, or a fall into the nearby stream. </p>
<p>Nicolo breathed out slowly as the women's attention turned to Yusuf. By the time Yusuf's tale was done, his stomach settled, and his shoulders relaxed. </p>
<p>"Had I known this creature aggrieved you so," Andromache said dryly, "I would have asked Quynh to spare it." </p>
<p>Yusuf chuckled, taking the slight with the good cheer he was charmed with. He glanced over to Nicolo and winked. </p>
<p>Nicolo wished he has the natural inclination of such things: amusing tales, an easy demeanor, the ability to soothe even from a distance. He regretted offering to serve tea. He was a poor companion to the table. He was at a loss for conversation, yet his heart was full of questions. </p>
<p>"You had no choice." </p>
<p>Nicolo failed to hide the grimace at Andromache's words. He sat down heavily on his seat. He swallowed, his throat working around the words he should offer. He planned them for decades, and yet now, his mind was blank. </p>
<p>Suddenly, Yusuf felt too far away. </p>
<p>Andromache did not wait for a reply. She took great care to lift the cup to her lips and drank. </p>
<p>"At the time," Nicolo said after she set her cup down. To reply while she drank seemed cowardly. </p>
<p>"I thought there was no other choice." Nicolo waited to see what either has to say. </p>
<p>Andromache studied Nicolo. Her eyes seemed to change. Was this what Yusuf claimed to see in Nicolo's eyes? </p>
<p>"No more tea," Quynh said abruptly. She tilted her cup towards the table for show. </p>
<p>"Ah." Nicolo checked the battered kettle, and sure enough, the vessel was empty. "I will make more." </p>
<p>Nicolo rose to his feet, empty kettle in his grip, his steps quick. He passed Yusuf's concerned, "Nicolo?" He gave Yusuf a small head shake, holding up the empty kettle as he entered their house. </p>
<p>He was fleeing. He knew it. He suspected the women knew it. And he was certain Yusuf knew it. </p>
<p>Perhaps he was a coward after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. (Nicolo) - Outside of Morocco, 13th century</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nicolo could not remember what he was doing. </p>
<p>The chunks of goat sat in a thick spice dotted brown broth, bobbing as the stew burbled. Nicolo gave the food one more stir. He could not remember if he stirred it already before. </p>
<p>It is fine, Nicolo told himself. He covered the stew with the lid. Wait, was he supposed to leave it uncovered? </p>
<p>The stew smelled appetizing when Yusuf cooked it, but now, Nicolo's stomach cramped as wisps of its spices perfumed the air. </p>
<p>Outside, it was quiet. Hopefully, Yusuf did not take offense or perceived an insult towards Nicolo. Yusuf took offense easily when insults were hurled at Nicolo. Nicolo tried to reason with Yusuf that such slights are harmless and did not bother him. But Yusuf still held on to the strange belief Nicolo has no faults with a tenacity that both touched and exasperated Nicolo. </p>
<p>Nicolo tipped his head. He listened past the stew's low bubbling, but it was quiet. </p>
<p>...Perhaps it was too quiet? </p>
<p>Fearing Yusuf has slit the women's throats, after all, Nicolo glanced up to peer out the open door. </p>
<p>Quynh stood at the doorway, filling it with her presence despite her slight form. In her red robes, she looked like she set the door aflame. </p>
<p>"Tea is almost ready," Nicolo offered. </p>
<p>Quynh nodded. She said nothing. </p>
<p>Nicolo lifted the lid to reveal the pot's contents.</p>
<p>"The stew...the stew is nearly done as well," Nicolo added. It sounded feeble to his own ears. He grimaced and turned back to the stew in the fire. </p>
<p>"What you did was a horrible thing," Quynh said bluntly. </p>
<p>The house shrank around him. </p>
<p>Nicolo's shoulders hunched forward. He flexed, pushing his shoulders back and told himself he can breathe. </p>
<p>"Yes," Nicolo murmured. There was no reason to deny it. "It was." He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. "But it will not happen again." </p>
<p>"No," Quynh said tightly, "It will not." </p>
<p>Nicolo's eyes dropped to the stew. A faint sensation of choking rose again. He rubbed his throat until it faded. </p>
<p>"I am sorry," Nicolo quietly offered. </p>
<p>"Apologies do nothing," Quynh bit out, "Only promises hold value in this world." </p>
<p>Nicolo took a deep breath. He was about to speak once more when arms wrapped around him from behind. </p>
<p>"A thousand apologies would not repair all you suffered," Quynh murmured to Nicolo's ear. "But will you accept a promise from us you and your Yusuf will not find yourselves trapped in such situations again?" </p>
<p>Quynh smelled like a flower Yusuf once showed Nicolo. It only grows in moonlight, yellow as the desert sun above them during the day, fragrant and vibrant in the crevices of broken rock among the dunes. Yusuf strangely said the flower reminded him of Nicolo. It had puzzled Nicolo. It smelled too nice to be compared to him. </p>
<p>The same spicy floral surrounded Nicolo. There was also a hint of the sea and a faint tang of sweat. Her arms, while slender, wrapped tight around Nicolo with strength. </p>
<p>"You," Nicolo rasped, "You are not disappointed?" </p>
<p>"Only that we were not there to castrate those who hurt you and Yusuf," Quynh grunted. "It is unfair. Yusuf had the privilege of striking down the ones responsible. For years, I imagined doing so with my arrows. Slowly." </p>
<p>Nicolo grimaced. Automatically, his legs twitched at the image her words conjured. </p>
<p>Quynh chuckled and squeezed Nicolo tighter. </p>
<p>"Quynh," Andromache chided by the doorway. </p>
<p>Quynh twisted around, turning Nicolo towards the doorway in the process. </p>
<p>"No." Quynh's pout was clear in her voice. She hooked her chin over Nicolo's right shoulder. Nicolo fidgeted. It felt strange to have someone other than Yusuf this close without ill intent. </p>
<p>"Mine," Quynh announced. "You can have the funny one. He is like you. He detests cats as well." </p>
<p>"I find nothing humorous about his scimitar to my back right now," Andromache said wryly. </p>
<p>"Yusuf?" Nicolo called out, alarmed. </p>
<p>"I do not hate cats," Yusuf said in reply from behind Andromache. She muttered something about them always staring at her. The clear sound of Yusuf's blade slipping back into its sheath followed. "Cats hate <em>me</em>!" </p>
<p>Yusuf slipped past Andromache, his eyes taking in Quynh and Nicolo. His only comment was an arched eyebrow. He turned back to Andromache. </p>
<p>"And Nicolo is funny," Yusuf declared. To Nicolo, he added, "Say something funny." </p>
<p>"Is this not humorous enough?" Nicolo remarked. He gestured feebly towards the arms still around him. He could only lift his arms to his elbows. "I am like a caught fish." </p>
<p>Yusuf waved at Nicolo. </p>
<p>"See?" Yusuf asked Andromache. </p>
<p>"Hilarious," Andromache said dryly. She considered Quynh and Nicolo. "We said we would wait before you pounce." </p>
<p>Quynh sniffed as she released Nicolo. "No, you said wait." She shrugged delicately. "I did not say I agree." </p>
<p>"Wait?" Nicolo felt like he was listening to a language he could not grasp completely. </p>
<p>Andromache's expression gentled, her smile both sad and proud. </p>
<p>"There was a conversation you dreaded all these years yet also needed to hear." Andromache gestured towards Quynh. "But she insisted she only needed to embrace you, and it would be enough." </p>
<p>"Oh," Nicolo said numbly. He exchanged a look with Yusuf. </p>
<p>"I am going to teach my Nicolo the bow," Quynh declared. "Andromache can teach your Yusuf stealth and her ax." </p>
<p>"<em>My</em> Nicolo?" Yusuf repeated. He frowned. "He is not yours, he is—" </p>
<p>Nicolo gave Yusuf a look. </p>
<p>Yusuf cleared his throat. "Ahem, yes, and this conversation?" </p>
<p>Andromache glanced over to Quynh. </p>
<p>Quynh nodded. She wrapped her arms around Nicolo's arm instead. She smirked at Yusuf's scowl. </p>
<p>Andromache slowly approached Nicolo. She gestured to Quynh to step away. Quynh obliged with a grumble. </p>
<p>"We all did things we did not want to do in the past. For all the reasons that told us we should." Andromache canted her head, studying Nicolo. </p>
<p>"But our past is our past," Andromache said. "The years go on and on for us. It does not linger on what has already occurred." She clasped Nicolo's shoulder. </p>
<p>"Nor should you, Nicolo di Genova." </p>
<p>Nicolo blinked hard, his eyes burning at the corners. He nodded solemnly to Andromache. </p>
<p>Yusuf stepped closer. He rested a palm over Nicolo's lower back.</p>
<p>The walls stretched around Nicolo. The air no longer felt thick in his chest. </p>
<p>"Besides," Andromache continued, "should one dare to harm one of us like that, do not think any of us would stand idle and do nothing. Such troubles are not just for you and Yusuf." </p>
<p>"I would castrate those who dare," Quynh offered, "As I did not get to before." </p>
<p>"And not save me any?" Andromache drawled. </p>
<p>"You could finish them off." Quynh gestured with her hand, imitating an ax. "I would have left them alive. I am cutting out cocks, not hearts. They would still live." </p>
<p>Nicolo shared a wince with Yusuf. Nicolo cleared his throat. </p>
<p>"Thank you for—" Nicolo tried. </p>
<p>"I would take no pleasure..." Andromache copied the same gesture. "They would be in so much pain; my ax would be a mercy instead." </p>
<p>Quynh paused, her lower lip sticking out. "You have a good point." </p>
<p>Yusuf coughed. "Ah yes, it is just as well it is in the past." He glanced over to Nicolo, his eyes warm. "And it will remain in the past. All is left is the years before us." </p>
<p>Nicolo's knuckles brushed against Yusuf's hip. </p>
<p>"You will not face the years without us. You are not alone," Quynh said. </p>
<p>"We dreamed of each other, so we can find each other." Andromache studied Yusuf before her gaze drifted to Nicolo. "It means we share each other's burden. It means if one suffers, we all suffer." </p>
<p>"And if one has joy," Yusuf murmured. His eyes lingered on Nicolo, his smile small and soft. "We all have joy." </p>
<p>Nicolo mutely nodded. And paused. </p>
<p>"But I was not alone. I was with Yusuf," Nicolo said. </p>
<p>"You were," Andromache agreed. She considered Nicolo. "But I do not think you truly believed it. Not at first. Am I wrong?" </p>
<p>"No," Nicolo murmured. "But I believe it now." </p>
<p>Yusuf's shoulder brushed against Nicolo's. </p>
<p>"And now you two are even less alone," Quynh added. </p>
<p>Nicolo's brow furrowed. "Less alone? But if we were never alone, then how are we even less..." Did he misunderstand? Quynh's Arabic was flawless. Did he mishear? </p>
<p>Andromache chuckled, her mouth curved as she glanced over to Quynh. </p>
<p>"No. Mine," Quynh huffed. "He has an archer's sharp eye. Mine to teach." </p>
<p>Yusuf edged closer to Nicolo. He ignored the look Nicolo tossed over once again. </p>
<p>"So..." Yusuf hedged, "What does this all mean?" </p>
<p>"It means we talk," Andromache was blunt again. However, Nicolo realized her eyes stayed kind. They were not assessing as he had feared but examining as if checking on the person's well-being before her. It was regard he was used to receiving from Yusuf, and he felt blessed for it. To have another, perhaps two, who may feel as concerned for him was...strange. But it also meant Yusuf would bask under the same warmth. Good. Yusuf deserves to be loved. </p>
<p>Yusuf curled his hand, warm and large, around Nicolo's. He smiled, his fingers twitching around Nicolo's hand. As if Yusuf knew what Nicolo was thinking. Of course, Yusuf knew. His thoughts were Yusuf's as is Yusuf's were his. </p>
<p>"And there are things to be glad of and proud of," Andromache murmured. "We should not be judged by anyone other than ourselves." </p>
<p>"I judge," Quynh interrupted. She shrugged. "But I see no fault or evil here. Only good." She winked at Nicolo. </p>
<p>Nicolo squeezed Yusuf's hand when Yusuf fidgeted next to him. </p>
<p>"Quynh," Andromache murmured. "Do not tease." </p>
<p>Quynh winked at Nicolo once more. </p>
<p>"I like your shirt," Quynh cooed. "It is flattering with your eyes." </p>
<p>Nicolo gripped Yusuf's hand tighter when he felt Yusuf twitch. </p>
<p>"We have many questions," Nicolo hastily spoke up before Yusuf could. "But it can wait until after a meal." </p>
<p>Yusuf muttered under his breath, too low even for Nicolo to catch. </p>
<p>"You must be hungry," Nicolo added, louder. </p>
<p>"Yes," Yusuf agreed begrudgingly. "We have many questions, but there is no rush. We can truly say we have nothing but time, eh?" </p>
<p>Nicolo wondered about the look the women shared. Before he could comment, the pot of stew behind him gurgled. </p>
<p>Andromache exhaled. Her shoulders seem to straighten, and she appeared taller in more ways than just her height. </p>
<p>"Why not bring the tea out," Andromache said. It was a suggestion, but her brisk tone hinted it was not often people ignored her. "We will talk after eating." </p>
<p>"Andromache," Quynh murmured. Her smirk was gone. She glanced over at Nicolo. Her smile looked pinched. Her shoulders rolled back slightly as well. She stood taller as if bracing for something. </p>
<p>"Later," Andromache said to Quynh, but her eyes were on Nicolo and Yusuf. "We will talk later. I am hungry, and I know this morning's meal did not appeal to you." </p>
<p>"Ah," Yusuf nodded towards the stew in the hearth. "Then we shall feast fine tonight. The hares are ready for the fire. Let us eat the stew while we wait for Quynh's generous gift to cook. You are in for a treat! This is my finest attempt!" </p>
<p>"Very well," Andromache agreed. She eyed the stew in the fire. She leaned in, flicking out another dagger out of nowhere. She dipped the dagger's tip into the broth. She tasted it. She did not flinch at the heat. </p>
<p>"Good, yea?" Yusuf grinned as Andromache dipped her blade into the stew again. </p>
<p>Andromache's mouth pressed together. </p>
<p>"Hm," Andromache only said. She shot Yusuf an arched eyebrow. Then, her hand cupped around Quynh's elbow, Andromache steered Quynh towards the door. </p>
<p>"Wait, what is that suppose to mean?" Yusuf grumbled after their departing backs. </p>
<p>As soon as the women stepped out, Nicolo rested his head on Yusuf's shoulder. He rubbed his nose on Yusuf's tunic. He breathed deep. </p>
<p>"Oh," Yusuf murmured. He slipped his arms around Nicolo. "Hello, <em>hobi</em>." </p>
<p>Nicolo shoved his nose to Yusuf's throat. He exhaled as Yusuf's beard brushed against his temples. </p>
<p>Yusuf said nothing. He seemed content to let Nicolo burrow into him. All these years, Yusuf let Nicolo have these quiet moments, no matter how abrupt Nicolo would turn to him, seeking them out. </p>
<p>"I..." Nicolo sighed. "I had faith they would not reject me—" </p>
<p>Yusuf's hand slid up between Nicolo's shoulders. </p>
<p>"Us. Reject us." Yusuf's other arm went around Nicolo's middle. "And they did not." </p>
<p>Nicolo nodded. He savored the heat of Yusuf sinking into his own skin. </p>
<p>Yusuf's fingers combed through Nicolo's hair, finding the tangles, unraveling each knot. One by one. And Nicolo slumped more into Yusuf. </p>
<p>"They appear to be good people," Yusuf murmured as he continued to run his fingers through Nicolo's hair. He paused. "Even Quynh." </p>
<p>Nicolo snorted. He patted Yusuf's chest, his fingers seeking the faint impression of the pendant. He rubbed at the shape—a talisman of their own making—and reluctantly stepped back. </p>
<p>"You and I," Nicolo said. It was a reminder; it was a vow. </p>
<p>Yusuf hummed, his eyes dark with the same promise. Those brown windows into Yusuf's soul also seemed to vow something more. It curled in Nicolo's belly and pooled liquid hot between his legs. </p>
<p>Food. Talk," Nicolo reminded Yusuf. He patted Yusuf's chest again. </p>
<p>"Very well," Yusuf relented with a sigh. "Food first." </p>
<p>Nicolo shook his head. "One more thing before that." He stepped back a step when Yusuf edged closer with intent. </p>
<p>"Oh?" Yusuf rumbled, his face flushed as his eyes dropped to Nicolo's mouth. "What is that?" </p>
<p>Nicolo gave the side of Yusuf's beard a light scratch. He fetched the kettle, sidestepped Yusuf's reaching and eager hand and headed for the doorway. </p>
<p>"After you properly spiced the stew," Nicolo said over his shoulder. </p>
<p>Yusuf sputtered. </p>
<p>Nicolo chuckled as he went to the table where Andromache and Quynh waited with knowing smirks. Nicolo found himself hurrying towards them, towards what felt like the next part of his and Yusuf's future. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The End</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: I can't get away from writing these two. LOL. Yes. There will be more. ;)</p><p>A/N 2: much love to the TOG Kink meme. I wouldn't have discovered the joy of writing about these two without it.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>